


Pie

by Hobbitfing



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbitfing/pseuds/Hobbitfing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nori wants pie, so he takes Dwalin's. </p><p>Drabble and silliness. </p><p>(RP with my wife, who isn't on AO3)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pie

Nori was hungry. He was hungry and bored and all his favourite shops were closed—he didn’t steal from his favourites!—and he didn’t want to go home to Dori’s nattering, and he was pretty sure that all the food in his lairs was gone or spoiled. He hunkered into a little ball, trying to think of anything besides food. It wasn’t working. He wanted a pie. A fresh, meaty, greasy pie. He smiled with his eyes, uncurling and standing. Dwalin, he remembered, had the same favourite pie maker. He even favoured lamb, just as Nori did. He often snuck into Dwalin’s rooms for no reason at all, except maybe to mix some things about. Now, he had a purpose.

Getting in was easier than spitting—Dwalin seemed to have given up on keeping Nori out—and Nori was free to rifle Dwalin’s larder. He pushed most of it aside, flour and other things that weren’t yet food, keeping for his pockets a hunk of cheese and a loaf of bread. And then, there they were—three crisp, golden pies, baked that day or Nori was an elf. They barely fit in his hands, they were so big. Nori’s mouth was watering, and for a moment he was tempted to eat one right there and then, spreading crumbs over every surface in Dwalin’s tiny kitchen.

Still, he had pies in hand. He’d gotten what he came for, and he tried not to be more than a fool than he needed to be.

It was at this moment that he heard steps from what he knew was Dwalin’s bedroom. Before he could do more than stand, Dwalin was stumbling out of his room and into the kitchen. His eyes were squinted shut and he was breathing slow and heavy.

“Hmm,” he grumbled.

Nori froze. He was completely exposed, not even the open larder door between him and Dwalin. There were no exits except through Dwalin. He cursed himself, cursed Dwalin, cursed Dwalin’s beard and his lineage. It was no use—Dwalin hadn’t put him here, it was his own fault. Dwalin didn’t seem to have seen him yet, his head was down and he was slowly shuffling forward. Nori stayed very, very still, hoping to keep himself unseen through sheer obviousness. If he moved, it would only draw Dwalin’s attention.

The big guard gave him a puzzled look, one eyebrow lowering. He stopped in front of Nori, turned, and scrabbled a bit at the cupboards, hands searching for a mug.

A strange compulsion overtook Nori, making him press one of the pies into Dwalin’s reaching hands. He regretted giving up one of the pies, but he had a feeling it was the right thing to do. For his escape, of course, not for Dwalin.

Immediately, a broad, sleepy smile spread over Dwalin’s face. He muttered something and turned back to his bedroom, pie in hand.

Nori allowed himself a quiet, relieved sigh. He had no idea why he’d thought to give Dwalin the pie, but he certainly wasn’t questioning the urge! Stuffing the two remaining pies away safely, he tiptoed past Dwalin’s bedroom and back out the window he’d left open for himself.

*

The next morning, Dwalin woke up with a smile still on his face. It quickly turned to confusion. There was a pie on the bed next to him, leaking gravy all over his sheets. Grumbling, he got up, taking the pie with him to the kitchen where Balin was making himself a cup of tea.

“’morning, brother.” Balin looked more than half-asleep, lazily stirring the fragrant leaves into his mug.

“Balin… do you know anything about this?” Dwalin showed him the pie. “I woke up next to a pie this morning.”

Balin smirked into his tea. “What goes on between you and your pie is nothing t’me.”

Dwalin made a face at him. “Mhm,” he went to the larder to put his pie back and realized that the other pies were gone. “All my pies…” he whined. “I must have eaten the other two.”

“It’s worse than I feared.” Balin patted his brother’s arm, no longer tall enough to reach Dwalin’s shoulder comfortably. “Well, it wasn’t me. I’ve been at the library all night, and now I’m going to bed. Let me know what to get you and your pie for your betrothal.”

“More pies?”

“That seems a bit tactless, don’t you think? They could be family.” Balin laughed softly, shaking his head and closing his bedroom door.

Dwalin frowned, closing the pantry and starting his breakfast with a sigh.


End file.
